


A Madness Most Discreet

by Sproid



Category: due South
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Surprise Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproid/pseuds/Sproid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg and Ray try to work out who Fraser is dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Madness Most Discreet

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Linguini for reading this through, indulging me by making guesses at periodic interviews, and providing a title.
> 
> I don't want to give the pairing away, hence no relationship tag. If anyone wants to know before they start reading, let me know and I'll be happy to tell you.

The first time Fraser comes back into the consulate late in the evening, humming under his breath and looking comfortably relaxed in his jeans and sweater, Meg doesn’t think much of it. While it’s unusual for Fraser to stay out late unless he’s working on a case, it’s not unheard of, and she assumes he’s been for a walk or something equally as energetic.

“Sleep well, Fraser,” she calls from her office.

Fraser sticks his head around her door, and he’s clearly _very_ tired, because he’s got a sleepy smile on his face as he says, “Thank you, sir. You, too.”

It’s afterwards that Meg starts noticing that every so often, Fraser turns up for work looking distinctly tired. Always on time, of course, but struggling to stifle the occasional yawn during briefings. When he’s not concentrating, a small smile will make its way onto his face, and there’s only one thing Meg can think of which would explain both that and the late nights. 

Fraser, it would seem, is dating someone.

Meg chews on her pencil and wonders what the most tactful way is to say to Fraser, “I’m sincerely glad that you’ve found someone to share that big heart of yours with, but please give me their name so that I can inform them that you need to be in bed by ten pm.”

There probably isn’t a way that wouldn’t involve both of them stumbling over their words for half an hour. It’s probably best just to go to the cause of the problem. Luckily, Meg has a very good idea to whom she needs to talk. She’ll just have a quiet word with one Detective Vecchio the next time she sees him.

\--

The quiet word turns into a conversation over the coffee machine at the station, during the course of which it becomes obvious to Meg that they’re both talking at cross purposes.

“Wait a minute,” Meg says, holding up a hand. “You think Fraser’s going out with _me_?”

Ray scrubs a hand over the back of his head. “Well, yeah. I mean, you two kind of have a thing going, so when he turns up tired and whistling something from some opera, I figure it’s because you two have been out the night before.”

“We _had_ a thing going, Detective. We’re both well over it. I was under the impression that Fraser was now...” she lowers her voice, just in case there are any close-minded ears around, “involved with you.”

“With _me_? Hell no. I mean, he’s an attractive guy, but there ain’t nothing like that between us.” Ray drains half his coffee in one go and shakes his head. “I’m not awake enough for this. Fraser is definitely going out with someone, right? I’m not wrong on that?”

“I had reached the same conclusion, based on his recent changes in behaviour.” Ray passes her the rest of his coffee, which she gratefully swallows. “But if it’s not me, and it’s not you...”

Ray takes the empty coffee cup back. “Then who the hell _is_ he dating?” 

\--

Over lunch, while Fraser is out walking Dief, Meg and Ray put their heads together. They decide that the only people they’ve seen Fraser converse with on a regular basis, in a meaningful fashion at least, are those within the department. Turnbull also fits that requirement, but he’s dismissed on account of the fact that Fraser can’t seem to cope with him.

That is, until Ray suggests that perhaps the two of them have found a different method of ‘coping’ with one another.

Meg goes for more coffee, makes herself consider it, allows that it’s a slim possibility, but rules him out as a priority to interview.

“We’re going to interview them?” Ray asks, scratching his head. “Is that such a good idea?”

“Well, perhaps just make some inquiries,” Meg says. “How else do you suggest we go about establishing the identity of Fraser’s partner? I don’t imagine for one moment that he’ll simply tell us.”

“True,” Ray allows. “We’ll have to do it quiet-like though, y’know, on the low so Fraser doesn’t find out.”

“Of course.”

“So, who’re we starting with?”

\--

Somehow, Meg ends up talking to Francesca, seeing as Ray thinks he’s likely to get punched if he comes across as interfering-big-brother-ish. There isn’t much that’s more interfering than asking if someone is dating your best friend. Personally, Meg isn’t entirely sure that she’s going to avoid being punched either, given that for a while there she and Francesca saw each other as rivals. Maybe this is a chance to mend some fences though.

As it happens, despite Meg’s attempts to be subtle, Francesca’s response is a crestfallen, “Fraser’s seeing someone?! And it’s not _me_?”

“Well, we don’t know that for sure,” Meg says hastily, digging out a handkerchief and handing it to Francesca. She’s glad she managed to corner Francesca in the photocopier room rather than in the hall; at least there’s some measure of privacy here. Awkwardly, she pats the shoulder closest to her, and ends up with Francesca sniffling into her jacket. “There, there. It’s not you; you’re a perfectly lovely lady, you know.”

“Damn right I am,” Francesca mumbles, before raising her head and blowing her nose determinedly. “And you’d better tell me when you find out who Fraser’s going out with, you hear me? They’d better not be a jerk, or they’re gonna have to deal with me.”

Meg smiles, and doesn’t say that Fraser is capable of looking out for himself. She only sure of that half the time. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” she says, and extracts a promise from Francesca to keep quiet before she leaves.

\--

Ray waits until Fraser does his usual thing of delivering his report to the Lieutenant, and then sidles over to Elaine’s desk with his best charming smile and a doughnut he’s managed to hide from Dief all morning.

“What do you want?” she asks suspiciously, after she accepts the doughnut and takes a bite. Ray pretty much knows there and then that she’s not going to tell him anything. He doesn’t begrudge her the doughnut though; that’s just smart in a place like this.

“Nothing” he says innocently. “Just, y’know, looking for information about everyone’s favourite Mountie.”

Elaine raises an eyebrow. “And why do you think I know anything about him that you don’t?”

“Contrary to popular belief, Fraser and I do actually have separate lives,” Ray points out. “And I was thinking that maybe with you being, y’know, female, there might be certain things you and he do together that he and I don’t.” Then his eyes widen and he goes, “Wait, I didn’t mean that how it sounded. Well, I kinda did, but not quite like that. I don’t want details or anything.”

“Well good, because you’re not going to get them.”

“So you and he, you’re not...”

“If I were you, I’d leave off speculating about Fraser’s private life,” Elaine says, sending a glance towards the closed office door behind which Fraser is still talking to Welsh. She’s quiet and serious enough that Ray leans in and waits for whatever else she’s going to say. After a moment though, all she adds is, “He wouldn’t like it, and you know how the Lieutenant gets about gossip.”

“Yeah,” Ray agrees. It’s all fine, until rumours turn ugly and someone gets hurt. He knows that, he does, but that’s not what he wants here. Even so, Elaine won’t tell him anything, even though Ray is pretty sure she’s got stuff to tell.

Never mind. It’s only been a week. Between them, he and Meg can surely find something out soon.

\--

“So,” Ray says, picking up a pencil from his desk and fiddling with it. “It’s not Frannie, and it’s probably not Elaine, although she definitely knows something but she’s keeping schtum. That pretty much cuts out all the ladies in here.”

“That might explain why Elaine wouldn’t tell you anything,” Meg points out.

“So, we looking at the guys then?”

“That would seem to be the next logical step, yes.”

“We’ll have to be smart about this if we don’t want our heads kicked in,” Ray warns. “We can’t just go around asking cops whether or not they’re doing the Mountie.”

“ _That_ was going to be your approach?” Meg asks.

“Well, no,” Ray says defensively, until he sees her smile. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

“Actually, we’d both better shut up,” Meg says, nodding towards Welsh’s office, where the door opens.

“Thank you, Constable, for your time,” Welsh says as he ushers Fraser towards the door. Ray presumes the giant file of paperwork beneath his arm is Fraser’s doing, and won’t that just make the Lieutenant’s day?

“You’re very welcome, sir,” Fraser replies, shaking his hand and then walking over to Ray’s desk. Behind Fraser’s back, Welsh sighs and then closes the door. 

“I’d better get back to the consulate,” Meg decides, standing up.

“Do you require me there, sir?” Fraser asks.

“Not today, Fraser. You stay here. Make friends. Whatever it is that you usually do.” She wonders if that’s laying it on a bit strong, but Ray’s got far more of a chance of observing Fraser’s interactions with members of the department if Fraser is actually in the building.

“Right you are, sir,” Fraser says, sounding slightly puzzled but not suspicious.

Ray nods and gives her a wink which she presumes means he’s on her wavelength with the plan, and throws Fraser a file to look over. Meg leaves them to it.

\--

Over the next week or so, Ray keeps half an eye on Fraser when he’s in the building, trying to figure out which one of the many detectives and constables might have earned his affection.

There’s a few who he thinks are possible candidates, but after he points them out to Meg and they surreptitiously survey them, they all turn out to have other reasons for hanging around Fraser. The new detective turns out to be grateful that Fraser took the time to show him around during his first few days; the constable on his way up genuinely just seems to want Fraser’s advice and experience; and the newspaper boy does admittedly have a thing for the uniform, but not the guy inside it.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Ray complains to Meg.

“Well, neither of us has questioned the more established detectives yet,” Meg points out.

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that,” Ray says. “I ain’t sure I trust any of them with Fraser.”

They turn their gaze on the spectacle that is Huey and Dewey attempting to entertain a reluctant corner of the room with their latest song, while people trickle away by the second. It ends with someone cutting the power on their distinctly out-of-tune guitars, and is shortly followed by a shouting match held across the office.

“I know what you mean,” Meg replies with a wince. “Come on. Let’s go and fetch Fraser and get lunch.”

Fraser seems reluctant to leave Welsh’s office, but Ray can’t blame him for that given the chaos outside. It takes Welsh saying, “No, you three go. Get out of here before I start doing some serious damage to people’s eardrums. Well,” he adds after a moment of consideration, “More damage than has already been done, anyway.”

“If you’re sure, sir,” Fraser says.

Welsh waves them out. “Quite sure, Constable.”

They just get to the end of the corridor before Welsh’s bellow breaks out above the general chaos. Fraser stops objecting to Ray and Meg dragging him along, and lets himself be guided out of the building with no more protests.

\--

On Friday morning, Ray turns up to work on time to find that Fraser is, of course, already there. Thankfully he’s talking to Welsh, which gives Ray a few minutes to collect his thoughts over coffee, and go over his and Meg’s mental list of candidates before Fraser comes out. It’s then that Ray notices Fraser’s slightly tired eyes and half-smile, which are a good look on him, make Ray believe that Fraser might actually be happy.

“Have a good night last night, Fraser?” Ray asks innocently as Fraser takes a seat.

“I did actually, Ray, thank you for asking,” Fraser replies.

“Sat in your apartment with a good book and a mug of hot chocolate?” Ray makes it sound like a guess, even though he knows damn well that’s not what’s making Fraser look soft around the edges this morning.

“No, in fact. Detectives Huey and Dewey invited me to join them-”

Ray almost chokes on his coffee, but waves away Fraser’s concern in favour of hearing the rest. “I’m fine,” he chokes. “Went down the wrong way. Go on.”

“For a comedy show,” Fraser concludes. 

Ray can’t decide if he’s relieved or disappointed that Fraser hadn’t ended the sentence with ‘in bed.’

“Are you sure you’re alright, Ray?”

“Fine, fine,” Ray assures him, wiping coffee off his desk with his sleeve. Fraser gets out his handkerchief and joins in, until Welsh’s annoyed voice cuts into their attempts to set Ray’s desk to rights, and asks if Ray intends to do any actual work today or just make a mess.

“Work, sir,” Ray says smartly, leaping on the distraction from some mental images he really does not want to be having right now.

“Good. I got just the thing for you. Nothing too strenuous, right up your alley.”

Fraser stands up to say, “That really isn’t necessary, sir. We’re both quite capable-”

“Of taking the case, sir, thank you.” Ray cuts him off. An easy case on a Friday means they get to go home early, and Ray is all in favour of that today.

\--

Having ruled the jack-of-no-trades duo, who weren’t seriously in the running anyway, Meg and Ray are running out of ideas. They discuss their limited options during a coffee break at the station.

Taking a fortifying sip of tea, Meg says, “I might actually be forced to raise the issue of relationships with Turnbull.”

“Nah, we’re not there yet,” Ray says. “We’ve got a few options left.”

Dief wanders in behind a couple of officers and a guy in handcuffs, who presumably has something in his pocket if Dief’s interest is any indication. It usually is, but Ray manages to tempt him over with half a sandwich, and bends down to meet his eyes while he’s eating. “You’ll tell us, won’t you boy? You know who Fraser’s, uh, mate is.” He glances up at Meg. “That the right word to use with a wolf?”

With a shrug, Meg replies, “Your guess is as good as mine. Not all Canadians actually own wolves, you know. Fraser is rather unusual in that respect.”

“Who’s your owner’s mate, huh, Dief?” Dief swallows the last of the sandwich and looks consideringly at Ray. “Come on, you can tell us. We just wanna make sure he’s involved with the right type of person, y’know. We won’t betray the confidence, promise.”

With a bark, Dief gets up and runs over to Lieutenant Welsh, who is carrying a sandwich that is supremely superior to Ray’s offering. Meg and Ray sigh, and watch as Dief paws at the Lieutenant’s ankles until he gets a bite handed to him.

“I assume he didn’t believe you,” Meg remarks.

“Guess not.” Ray watches as the Lieutenant breaks off another piece of sandwich with a put-upon sigh. “He’s a braver wolf than I am, bothering the Lieu for food.”

Just in time to save Dief from an imminent shouting-at, Ray thinks, Fraser appears and strides over to remove the still enthusiastic Dief from the Lieutenant’s vicinity. “I do beg your pardon, sir,” he says apologetically. “Diefenbaker, we’ve been over this, remember?”

If Dief remembers, he certainly doesn’t care.

“Perhaps if you fed him at home, he wouldn’t steal my food,” Welsh says, although he sounds far less annoyed about it than Ray expected, verging on amusement, even. With Dief though, you had to go for one or the other, and amusement was far less effort in the long run.

“I’ll take that into consideration, sir,” Fraser says. “Come on, Dief.”

Mournfully, Dief watches the Lieutenant disappear back into his office, and then follows Fraser back over to Meg and Ray’s table.

“Good morning, Inspector, Ray,” Fraser says. “May I join you?”

“Go right ahead,” Ray says.

“I trust you’ve had a productive morning?” Fraser asks as he sits down.

Meg and Ray exchange a frustrated look.

Dryly, Meg answers, “Not even close.”

\--

The following day, Meg interviews the tea-lady on the offchance she’s seen anything. She hasn’t. Meg ends up asking if she’s dating Fraser, just in case. 

“Any luck?” Ray asks when Meg returns.

“Happily living with her partner of twenty six years, but if Fraser wanted to join them, neither of them would object,” Meg replies.

Ray scratches her off the mental list.

\--

They’re caught up in one of those cases that starts out bad and ends up worse, this time with Fraser in hospital because the bad guys caught him when he was busy doing his ‘believing in humanity’ thing. Meg’s first reaction is the utterly illogical one of guilt that she wasn’t there to help, before she reminds herself that Fraser is an adult and a very capable member of the RCMP, and that even he cannot avoid injury forever.

While Ray heads up the continuing investigation, Meg stops by to see Fraser every day, reassured by the fact that she generally bumps into a few other people when she’s there. Fraser might be independent to the point of several people’s considerable worry, but he’s certainly not alone. 

She stops by before work one morning, and finds Welsh sleeping on the chair beside Fraser’s bed, scruffy and exhausted even in sleep. As quiet as she is, he stirs when she shuts the door, rubbing a hand over his eyes and rumbling, “ Good morning, Inspector.”

Equally as softly, in deference to Fraser’s considerably deeper-looking sleep, Meg replies, “Good morning, Lieutenant.” She crosses over to him, and hands him her coffee. He looks as if he needs it far more than she does. “You didn’t have to stay here all night,” she tells him.

Welsh shakes his head. “He got injured on a case I gave him, Inspector. That makes him my responsibility as well as yours. And until Vecchio catches the dirtbags who did this, I’m not gonna rest easy, no matter how many uniforms I’ve got outside.”

Meg nods. She expects nothing less from Welsh. As abrasive as he can be on the outside, he truly does care for his officers. She doesn’t think it makes much difference that Fraser isn’t technically one of his own in this case.

Sighing, Welsh looks at his watch. “I have to go in.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Meg promises. “And... thank you. For looking out for him.”

Picking up his crumpled jacket, Welsh leaves. Meg reflects that although she has yet to see Fraser’s loved one here, Welsh’s presence is proof that Fraser is far from uncared for.

\--

It takes Ray longer than he’d like to find the scumbags, but when he does catch up to them, he makes damn sure he gets them all with enough to land them inside for a very long time. Then he stops home to change his clothes and shower, and goes to visit Fraser in hospital for the first time.

It’s late in the evening, but Ray’s not the only one there. Welsh is standing by the window with one hand in his pocket, the other around an empty coffee mug.

“Hey, sir,” Ray says as he shuts the door carefully behind him.

When Welsh turns around, Ray sees he’s as drained by this one as the rest of them, but he still walks over to stand across the bed from Ray and says, “Good job out there.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ray steps closer to the bed, and looks down at Fraser, who is pale and out for the count, but with already fading bruises and far less wires in him than Ray expects. “How’s he doing?”

“Better. They say he can go home tomorrow.”

Ray nods. “Good.” He’s too tired to think of much else to say, but he doesn’t want to go yet. Eyes wandering, his eyes catch on Welsh’s jacket on the back of the chair, the blanket next to it, and the pile of coffee cups on the window sill. “You been here all the time?”

“Only over the nights.” Welsh cracks a smile. “The nurses don’t like me much.”

“Bet Fraser’s glad you’re here though,” Ray offers, and means it. “Not like I’ve been around, and the Inspector’s busy.” Too tired to censor himself, Ray muses, “Must get pretty lonely, unless his secretive significant other has turned up. Don’t suppose you’ve noticed anyone fitting that description?”

“And if I had, you think it’d be any of your business?”

“Right,” Ray says. “Not the right time. Sorry, guess I’m a bit out of it.”

“Go home, Detective,” Welsh says. “Get some sleep.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” He looks at Fraser again, resists the urge to pat his hand - better just to leave him to sleep - and steps away. “Night, sir. Say hi to Fraser for me when he wakes up?”

“I’ll pass that on,” Welsh assures him. Ray leaves, and when he takes a glance through the window, he sees Welsh still standing over the bed in guard-dog fashion. He’s clearly not going to budge, or let anything happen to Fraser, so Ray heads home for some much-needed shut-eye. Fraser’s in safe hands.

In the hospital room, Fraser blinks his eyes open and says hoarsely, “Thank you, sir.”

Stirring, Welsh goes to pour Fraser a cup of water. “You heard that, huh? He means well, but he can’t keep his nose out sometimes.”

Fraser nods and sips the water gratefully. “He and Inspector Thatcher both seem to be rather curious about my love life.”

“Then they can ask you about it when you’re out of hospital,” Welsh says bluntly. “Until then, their curiosity is the least of my concern.”

Sleepily, Fraser smiles, and then goes back to sleep with another murmured, “Thank you.”

Moments later, he’s snoring gently. Yawning, Welsh settles back into his chair, drags his blanket over himself, and prepares himself to wake up with a sore neck and a sore back the next morning.

\-- 

In the aftermath, Meg and Ray watch in amusement as Fraser, still bearing the scratches and bruises which haven’t quite healed, is fawned over to varying degrees by practically everyone in the station. By extension, Dief gets a fair amount of attention, which he laps up far more eagerly than Fraser does.

“Ah, Ray,” Fraser calls out, as the tea-lady gives him his mug with an offer that Ray can’t hear but can guess at.

Ray looks over at Meg. “Should we help him?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Meg replies with a wink.

At the point that various people gather around to clap Fraser on his uninjured shoulder, Welsh throws open his office door and puts a stop to it. “Alright, I’m going to assume that anyone still touching the Mountie wants a transfer to as near as Canada as I can arrange. Am I right?” 

Hurriedly, everyone returns to their seats. Ray and Meg sigh. It hadn’t gone on nearly long enough for them to tell if Fraser was actually going to welcome the attentions of anyone around him.

With a distinctly relieved look on his face, Fraser makes his way over to Meg and Ray. “Thank you, sir,” he says to Welsh, before he sits down with a wince.

They exchange a slightly guilty look. “Fraser,” Meg says. “Are you actually well enough to be here?”

“Of course, sir,” Fraser replies at once. “Although, Ray, if we could avoid anything too energetic then I’d be grateful.”

A pile of paperwork lands on Ray’s desk, courtesy of Welsh. “Luckily for you, Detective Vecchio has just been assigned some old case files to look over. Why don’t you lend him your help, Constable?”

Ray glares, then sighs, while Fraser and Meg give Welsh a grateful look. Then they get down to it, and Fraser spends the day being thoroughly look after by the two of them.

\--

No worried lover surfaces during Fraser’s recovery. Meg bites the bullet and broaches the topic with Turnbull.

It’s every bit as long and convoluted a conversation as she expects, with Turnbull missing the point entirely for five minutes, pretending to miss it for another five, and then repeatedly and fervently denying the existence of any such relationship between him and Fraser. His reasons range from, “I would never assume to be worthy of such attention,” to “Relationships in the workplace are rarely successful, and often dangerous,” and end with “In any case, I am involved with another.”

Meg holds up a hand. “Wait a minute. Another?”

Turnbull nods.

“Another... what?”

“Another Mountie,” Turnbull tells her. After a moment he notices her gesture to go on. “We met on that sailing ship, where we struck a deep and meaningful connection. I promised him we’d continue the relationship, and so we have.”

“How? I mean, presumably he is in Canada?”

“We write each other long love letters,” Turnbull tells her. 

Meg stops him before he reveals any of the details, but she does write down the name of the young man, and promises Turnbull that she’ll look into getting him an assignment closer to the border. Excitedly, Turnbull thanks her, and assures her in return that he will keep an eye out for any late night visitors asking for Constable Fraser.

For once, Meg does not dissuade him from helping. At this point, they need all the assistance they can get.

\--

“Maybe we should just ask him,” Meg suggests eventually.

Hunched over his coffee, attempting to stir in far too much sugar, Ray says, “Didn’t we agree he wouldn’t tell us?”

“Yes, but seeing as neither Elaine nor the Lieutenant seem inclined to reveal anything, I think we’ve exhausted all other options.”

After a moment, Ray shrugs. “Hell, why not?”

Then he takes a mouthful of coffee that is apparently too sweet even for his tastes, because he spits it right back out again. When Fraser comes to find them a few minutes later, Meg is attempting to entice Ray into trying her tea instead, and Ray is trying to persuade Meg to help him break into the out-of-order vending machine so he can get some M&Ms. They break apart when Fraser announces his presence with a cough, and abandon the discussion in favour of doing some work.

\--

It ends up being Ray’s job to ask, because Meg doesn’t want to risk making Fraser feel as if he’s required to tell her.

“I am his superior officer, Ray,” she reminds him. “And you know how Fraser is; I’ve tried to impress upon him that outside of work, he can think of as, as...”

“A friend?” Ray supplies. How is it that when it comes to anything even approaching emotions, suddenly he’s the one with words, not Meg?

“That’s it, thank you. But you know Fraser, he doesn’t always seem to grasp the idea.”

So Ray nods, makes a note to see if he can wrangle three tickets for the next hockey match, and waits for the right time to ask, “So, Fraser, wanna tell me who’s been putting you in such a good mood lately?”

It’s a sign of his lack of experience with this type of conversation that by the time Ray finds the right moment to ask, he hasn’t come up with a better way of phrasing the question. Which is not a good idea, because it gives Fraser the chance to pretend not to know what Ray’s talking about - it’s definitely pretending, Fraser won’t meet his eyes, keeps looking at the ground or the sky as they walk along. Even when Ray phrases it such that Fraser can’t possibly misunderstand, Fraser ends up fidgeting his way through the conversation, and avoids every question that Ray asks.

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to tell you, Ray,” he says eventually, stopping to turn and meet Ray’s eyes. “It’s just that... it’s not just me who would be affected if I were to reveal the identity of the person I am involved with. I have a responsibility to consider the safety and privacy of my partner, too.”

His shoulders are squared but there’s a hint of nervousness in his expression. Ray reaches out to clasp his arm and squeeze reassuringly. “It’s alright, Fraser, I get it.” 

Fraser relaxes, and nods. “Thank you, Ray.”

“But you know me and Thatcher wouldn’t tell anybody, right? We just want to check the guy out, make sure he’s doing right by you.”

At that, Fraser’s expression turns surprised, then soft. Ray guesses he hadn’t known that, after all. “Sometimes you’re real slow on the uptake, Fraser,” he mutters, and pulls Fraser into a quick hug because the park is deserted and Fraser looks like he needs it.

“Thank you, Ray,” Fraser says, and squeezes him back before they let go and start walking again.

“Anytime, buddy.”

Back at the car, Fraser stops and looks at him over the top of it. “Ray?”

“Fraser?”

“How do you know it’s a guy?”

There’s only simple curiosity on Fraser’s face. Ray glares at him. “I am gonna kick you in the head, Fraser.”

“Now, Ray, that’s not very friendly,” Fraser chastises, and ducks into the car before Ray can throw something at him.

\--

“...And I can’t tell if he was messing with me, or giving me a clue,” Ray finishes, drawing patterns on his empty plate with the diner’s salt shaker.

“With Fraser, it can often be difficult to tell,” Meg agrees. In an effort to ease Ray’s glumness, she adds, “On the bright side, you can take solace in the fact that you got Fraser to hug you; that doesn’t happen often.”

She has fond memories of Fraser’s hugs; if there’s one thing she regrets about their short-lived romance, it’s that her chances of any more of them are severely limited now.

“Well, I am a persuasive guy, and I give _great_ hugs,” Ray says. Something of Meg’s wistfulness must have shown on her face - it was hard to keep things entirely professional in a quiet, out-of-the-way diner - because he says with a flash of a smile, “Any time you want to test that, you just gotta ask.”

“I, ah... Thank you, I appreciate the offer,” she replies, and now it’s her turn to fiddle with the condiments, playing with sugar packets.

When she looks back up, Ray’s head is bent forwards and he’s running his hands through his hair, looking annoyed again. He glances up at her and grumbles, “How the hell is Fraser managing to hide this from us?”

“There are times when I think he’s far too practised in the art of subterfuge,” Meg agrees.

“Yeah.” He groans. “You know what really bugs me? It’s that he doesn’t trust us enough to tell us. I mean, I get that he wants to be careful, but what the hell does he think we’re gonna do? You’re the liaison between two countries for God’s sake, and I’ve been undercover for more than a year.”

“What gets to _me_ is that I am certain Lieutenant Welsh is being as quiet on the matter as Fraser is. His loyalty is commendable, but distinctly annoying in this instance.”

The waitress comes around, and they order a slice of apple pie between them. Halfway through eating it, Ray leans forwards sharply and snaps his fingers.

“What?” Meg asks warily.

“What’s that word, the one which sounds like ‘using’ but has more letters in it?”

‘Unicycling’ springs to mind first, but Meg dismisses that. “‘Utilising’?” she suggests.

“That’s the one. We haven’t been utilising all of our resources.” 

“How so?”

Ray grins. “Fancy an unofficial stake-out?”

\--

They establish that the best chance they have of getting a glimpse of Fraser’s new beau is on Friday evening, when Meg most often notices him coming in late. So Ray drops Fraser off at the consulate at the end of the day, parks the car out of sight a few blocks away, and waits until Meg calls him to say that Fraser’s leaving. 

Ray jogs to meet Meg, and they follow Fraser at a safe distance as he strides along. After fifteen minutes, as dusk falls and makes it harder to see, Ray murmurs to Meg, “Are you sure he doesn’t just go out for ridiculously long walks?”

Before Meg can answer, Fraser turns right onto a small side-street, and makes his way over to a car parked a few feet away. Ray and Meg find one of their own to hide behind, and peek over the top to watch.

“I knew it,” Meg hisses when the driver’s door opens and Lieutenant Welsh steps out. “I _knew_ Welsh was in on it.”

“Shoulda bought the GTO,” Ray sighs. “If Welsh is driving him someplace, we’ll never catch up. And how the hell did Fraser manage to persuade Welsh to drive him...”

Ray stops and takes another look, because Welsh is coming around the car to greet Fraser, and Welsh is dressed up a bit and Fraser is dressed down somewhat, which means they’re both in clothes that would be suitable for an evening at, say, a not-too-fancy but definitely discreet restaurant.

“Meg,” Ray says slowly. “Did we...”

“Completely miss this?” Meg replies, without taking her eyes off the other side of the road. “That would be an accurate conclusion, yes.”

In the dim street lights, they can just see Fraser give Welsh a slightly shy but open smile, which is returned with a softening in Welsh’s usually hard-set features. When their hands grasp, they linger, and they’re both definitely in each other’s personal space with every indication that they’re well-accustomed to being there. There’s a brief exchange of words, of which only the tone makes it across to Meg and Ray, and then Fraser leans in and slightly up to kiss the Lieutenant, brief and chaste but no less personal.

At that point, both Ray and Meg turn away, and slide down to sit on the pavement. There are some things to which they should not be privy, and others which require a bit of processing, so they sit with their backs against the side of the car until they hear two doors close across the road, and the rumble of the engine receding as Welsh and Fraser drive away.

“Well,” Meg says.

“Yeah,” Ray agrees faintly.

There’s silence, until Ray gets determinedly to his feet and sticks his hand out for Meg to take. “I got beer at my place.”

“Good idea,” Meg decides, and lets him help her up.

\--

After a beer each, sprawled out on the sofa in Ray’s apartment, they break open another and feel ready to discuss the evening’s revelations.

“So,” Ray says. “Him and Welsh, huh. I get why he didn’t want anyone to know. I get even more why he didn’t want _me_ to know. Probably didn’t want to risk me having some kind of fainting fit when I found out, or shouting at him.”

Carefully, Meg asks, “Are you going to?” 

Ray shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Dunno how I feel about it though. Welsh is a lot older than Fraser, for a start.”

“True. In many ways though, Fraser is far more mature than simply age would suggest. Impulsive on occasion, yes, but he’s no hot-headed teenager.”

“I know that, but he’s kinda innocent, y’know?” Ray considers that and shakes his head. “Well, not innocent. He’s seen plenty. But it’s like he doesn’t always get what it means.”

“Naive,” Meg supplies.

Ray nods. “And Welsh definitely isn’t. He’s, uh, cylindrical.”

When Meg looks over, Ray is waiting hopefully for her to give him the correct word. “‘Cynical’?”

“Yeah. You were there when we were talking about that case that the three of us couldn’t agree on; you thought it was a crime of passion, and Welsh was going on about how romance and passion didn’t exist. He might believe that, but Fraser sure as hell doesn’t.”

“They would appear to have reconciled their differences there already,” Meg points out. “In any case, it’s not necessarily a bad thing for naivety and cynicism to be exposed to one another; they’re different world views, not incompatible ones.”

“I guess.” For a moment, Ray looks unconvinced, but then he thinks and says slowly. “When Fraser got hurt, Welsh stayed with him at the hospital, right?”

“Every night,” Meg confirms. Then she snorts. “I remember thinking that it was a shame Fraser had no loved ones to visit him. Apparently, he’d been there the whole time.”

Ray rolls his head to the side on the back of the sofa and grins at her. “Shame on you, missing that.”

Meg looks at him. “Please. Like you did any better when you asked Dief who Fraser was dating, and he ran right up to the Lieutenant.”

Raising his beer bottle in acknowledgement of that, Ray continues. “So we know he’s loyal then. He’s already done the sticking with Fraser through illness bit. That’s good.”

“And protective, too. He would no more tell us about Fraser when we asked, than Fraser would tell us about him.”

Slowly, Ray nods, and she can see him thinking the same thing she is; Fraser doesn’t look like he needs protecting, but when it comes to relationships, he’s more vulnerable than most.

“The Lieutenant is a good guy,” Ray muses. “He won’t take advantage of Fraser or nothing.”

“And I can’t see Fraser even attempting to try and use their relationship to his benefit either, if such a thing were even possible.”

“So,” Ray says.

“So,” Meg echoes. “We’re agreed? Welsh is an acceptable partner for Fraser?”

“I think we are.”

They clink beer bottles.

“We gonna let Fraser know that we know?”

“I’d feel much more at ease if we did, yes,” Meg decides. “It might also set his mind at rest if we reassure him that he won’t face any recriminations from us.”

Groaning, Ray says, “If there are gonna be big words like that, you can have the conversation with him this time. You’re probably better at it than I am anyway.”

“Oh, no,” Meg says firmly. “Fraser and I do not do well when we try to have personal conversations.” Ray looks disbelieving. “It’s a Mountie thing,” Meg sighs. “If you ever meet Buck Frobisher, ask him. In any case, Fraser needs to know that he has support from _both_ of us. You’re coming with me.”

“Fair enough,” Ray concedes. “Alright. So how’re we doing this?”

\--

After a pleasant evening with Harding, which technically lasts so long that it’s very early next morning by the time Fraser gets back back to the consulate, following an embrace in the car with Harding that tempts both of them to extend it yet further...

After that, Fraser lets himself sleep in, until Dief wakes him with several plaintive whines for food. Fraser feeds him the leftovers from last night, and then spends his morning doing chores around the consulate, until he hears a noise in the hallway.

When he pokes his head out, Ray and Meg are standing in the hallway. The expressions on their faces are oddly reminiscent of those that Fraser’s seen on various neighbourhood when he’s escorting them to someone else’s door to apologise for an indiscretion. 

“Good morning,” he says, coming out to meet them. Dief, perhaps sensing trouble, stays in Fraser’s room. “What brings you both here on the weekend?”

Ray thrusts an envelope out to Fraser, and then shoves his hands back in his pockets and shuffles his feet. “We got something to tell you.”

Cautiously, Fraser turns the envelope over and tries to work out what both Ray and Meg could possibly have to tell him. An engagement is the only thing which comes to mind, but surely _they_ wouldn’t be giving _him_ the card in that instance. “Oh?”

“Actually, we’ve got more than one thing to tell you,” Meg says. “The first is that we, ah, saw you and Welsh last night.” Fraser looks up. Their slightly guilty expressions begin to make sense. “Together,” Meg adds. “By his car. While you were, ah-”

Hastily, Fraser says, “Thank you. I’m aware of the moment to which you are referring.”

Meg looks relieved.

To buy time, and cover the fact that he’s not quite sure how he feels about the fact that they presumably followed him last night, Fraser asks, “And the second thing?”

It’s Ray who speaks, still looking slightly wary but sounding very sure when he says, “We wanted to let you know that we think you’ve made a good choice with Welsh. He’ll be decent to you, so he can stay.”

Any slight annoyance Fraser felt disappears at that, replaced by warmth, because they were looking out for him, and he knows he doesn’t always make it easy to do that. “That’s, ah, very kind of you to say,” he tells them around the slight lump in his throat.

In an instance, Ray’s stepping closer, hands out of his pockets to clasp Fraser’s elbow like he thinks Fraser might fall down. On his other side, Meg does the same, and Fraser smiles at both of them with a shake of his head.

“Open your card,” Ray urges.

“Is this something I’m going to be able to put up in polite company?” Fraser enquires as he pulls the card out.

“Er...”

“I probably wouldn’t recommend it,” Meg says.

Fraser looks at it, and laughs. On the front is written “Congratulations on your new home,” only it’s been altered by Meg’s neat hand, with strategic crossings-out and arrows, to read ‘Congratulations on your not-so-new relationship’. Inside, Ray has scrawled out, “We’re sorry for sneaking around, but we wanted to make sure you were OK. Now we know, and we approve, so we’ll stop. Best of luck to both of you (or whatever the appropriate thing is in these circumstances).” 

Both ‘appropriate’ and ‘circumstances’ are printed carefully, and it’s that as much as the message which impresses on Fraser how much care the two of them have taken to assure him of their support.

“Thank you both, very kindly,” he says, and then finds that doesn’t seem like enough, so puts an arm around each of them and hugs them close for a moment. Then he realises that he’s just hugged both his boss and his partner without asking, and withdraws with a hasty apology. They roll their eyes in perfect synchrony, and Ray grabs him around the ribs for another one, joined by Meg after a moment of contemplation. Dief emerges to lick everyone so he doesn’t miss out on the fun.

After Fraser has tucked the card away in a shoebox, which is slowly but surely filling with odds and ends once more, he joins them both in the kitchen, where Ray is making tea. It’s actually drinkable, too. Even Meg looks impressed.

“I don’t wish to offend either of you,” Fraser says carefully. “And I am by no means implying that I think you’ll do so, but... You won’t tell anyone about the Lieutenant and myself, will you? It could cause various complications which both of us would prefer to avoid.”

“Nobody’ll hear it from me,” Ray promises.

“Nor I,” Meg confirms.

“Hey,” Ray says, “Does Elaine know about you two? Only, way back, she warned me off asking.”

“Ah... yes,” Fraser says, and blushes. “Harding and I were slightly less discreet than we should have been to start with. Elaine walked in on us in his office after work one evening. None of us were aware that anyone else was around.”

Both Meg and Ray try, largely unsuccessfully, to smother their laughs in their mugs of tea.

“Well,” Ray says when he’s recovered his composure, “I think you can be pretty sure she’s got your back.”

“It seems that everyone has,” Fraser remarks quietly.

“Damn straight,” Ray says firmly.

Meg adds, “And should either of you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” Fraser says. “Truly.”

There’s silence for a moment, save for the sounds of Dief munching cookies beneath the table.

“So,” Ray says. “If I get four tickets for the hockey match next week, you and Welsh could come along, right? Kinda like a double date? Give you two a chance to hang out without dealing with too many raised eyebrows.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” Fraser says quietly, directing it at both of them. “Can I check with Harding and get back to you?”

“Sure,” Ray says easily. Next to him, Meg nods as well, and then either takes a hint that Fraser wasn’t aware of giving, or just knows him better than he thought, because she stands up and nudges Ray to join her.

“We’ll let you get on with your day then,” Meg says, and they leave him to do so, feeling distinctly more relaxed than he had done before. Strange, he contemplates, how he hadn’t realised he’d been missing their backing until they’d given it to him. Perhaps he ought to pass their endorsement on to Harding.

Dief barks at him.

“Yes? And? I freely admit that it’s partly an excuse to see him today. Do you have a problem with that?”

With another woof and a lick, Dief communicates that in fact he whole-heartedly approves.

“Well. Good, then.”

\--

Harding opens the door with a towel in one hand and a wet plate in the other, looking surprised to see Fraser. By now, Fraser knows him well enough that he’s fairly certain that’s not an indication of displeasure at his presence.

“Sorry to come around without phoning ahead,” he says, just in case, but Harding shakes his head and steps back.

“No, no, come in. I keep telling you you’re welcome here anytime.”

Fraser steps in, smiling at the offer and the brief touch of Harding’s hand against his side. “I’ll try to remember that this time,” he says, following Harding into the kitchen.

“That’d be a miracle,” Harding says as he finishes drying, and puts both plate and towel away. “Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Actually, I’ve just had one,” Fraser says, leaning back against the counter (which he is more than aware by now can definitely stand up to his weight).  “That’s why I’m here, actually. Well, not the tea or coffee, there isn’t any kind of tea or coffee crisis, as far as I’m aware.” He catches Harding’s amused look, which distracts him more effectively than his own ramblings, and takes a moment to reorganise his thoughts. “Ray and Meg came to see me this morning,” he says.

“Did they now?” Harding puts his hands in his pockets and settles back against the table in the middle of the room.

“Yes. Apparently they’re more determined than I thought; they saw us last night, and are now aware of our relationship.”

With a shrug, Harding says, “I told you they’d figure it out eventually.”

“You don’t mind?” Fraser asks, watching him carefully to make sure. “I know you’d rather keep the number of people who know about us to a minimum.”

“Fraser.” Harding steps away, and over to Fraser, reaching out to put his hands on Fraser’s arms. “It’s Vecchio and Inspector Thatcher. They were bound to find out sooner or later. And I seem to recall telling you that if you wanted to tell them, you could.”

“I know,” Fraser says with a shrug. “It’s just, at first I wanted to make sure.” He doesn’t need to clarify that; he and Harding had had that conversation a while back, and Harding had thoroughly convinced Fraser that he was in this for the long haul. It had been a rather serious conversation, followed by a very pleasant physical demonstration of affection. Fraser shakes his head to clear it, and focuses again on Harding’s face, before he wanders too far down that memory. “And then after that I thought it might avoid a lot of questions if I didn’t tell them.”

“And now?”

“They seem to have answered most of the questions themselves.”

“So you were worrying about nothing?”

“It would seem that way, yes.”

Shaking his head, Harding half-mutters, “And you’re surprised by that. What am I going to do with you?”

Trying not to smile, Fraser reaches out and hooks his fingers through Harding’s belt loops, tugging him closer and shivering when he ends up pressed between Harding and the counter behind him. “Well, I have some suggestions,” he says, watching as the creases around Harding’s eyes deepen while his chuckle rumbles in his chest.

“Oh you do, do you?”

Fraser nods and leans in to nuzzle at Harding’s neck, licking just above his collar, which makes Harding’s hands tighten around his arms.

“By all means, then, suggest away,” Harding says, voice deepening. Fraser grins and moves his hands up so he can start unbuttoning Harding’s shirt.

\--

They all go to the hockey match the next week. Fraser ends up with Harding on one side and Ray on the other, while Meg stands next to Ray. In the press of the crowd, no-one cares that he and Harding are pressed too-close, nor notices that their hands occasionally join inside the pocket of Harding’s coat. The four of them cheer and shout, let themselves loose out of the confines of work, and generally have an excellent and relaxing time. Fraser thinks he could do this more often.

Afterwards, they all walk two-by-two down the dim street to where their cars are parked, Harding and Fraser a few paces behind Ray and Meg. Fraser smiles as he watches the two of them, who seem to be communicating as much with enthusiastic hand movements as they are with words. When Ray nudges Meg with his shoulder though, Fraser puts a hand out to stop Harding, and murmurs “Wait.” 

Seemingly no longer aware of their audience, Meg and Ray draw to a stop, and then Meg reaches up to slide her hand into his hair and pull him down for a kiss. For a moment, Ray’s hands flail wildly, and then he gets with the programme and manages to put his arms around Meg.

“Now isn’t that cute,” Harding says, not quite managing to inject his usual level of sarcasm in there. 

Fraser takes a look around the alley, which is empty save for the four of them. Then he looks back at Harding, who sighs and says, “Well, if you’re going to do it, get on with it.”

“Was that meant to sound put-upon?” Fraser enquires as he steps closer, and takes hold of the coat lapels in front of him.

Harding’s arms come firmly around him, to hold him warm and close. “I need to work on it?”

“Just a bit,” Fraser agrees, and then he stands half on tiptoes and presses his lips to Harding’s, brief and warm in the chilly night. It’s Harding who deepens it, sliding a hand up around the back of Fraser’s head and holding him there, making Fraser shiver and then groan, and close his eyes to better savour it.

When they part, Fraser’s hands are still tight in Harding’s coat, and he’s breathing heavily. “Can I come home with you?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Harding says, squeezing him tighter for a moment. “I’d like that.” They step apart and look over to Ray and Meg, who wave briefly at them and then head in the direction of Ray’s car.

“Now?” Fraser says, reluctant to step too far away.

Harding presses their shoulders together. “Now.”

There’s urgency in his voice, but it’s calm as well, and he doesn’t look remotely like he’s going to rush Fraser. If it wasn't that, then Meg's and Ray's encouragement would reassure him. For once, Fraser thinks, he’s actually made the right choice of romantic partner.


End file.
